Happenings in a big house
by GreyTardis
Summary: A story containing all sorts of Downton Abbey one shots, mostly about my favorite pairings. I'm planning to write a lot of Sybil/Branson and Mary/Matthew, but I have a very busy life, so updates won't be regular. I'm a Dutch writer so there may be mistakes. Thank you for reading and above all, enjoy!
1. Cold

**A/N:**** This is my first story here, I hope I did Mary some justice in this fic. :) Also, I'm to warn you; this wasn't beta'ed and I'm not an native speaker, so there might be mistakes. Please tell me what you thought!**

* * *

She hated this. Even though for many around her she might seem strong, not affected by the emotions that every now and then continued to rage inside her body, only few knew it was only a façade, a mere shell. And like many other objects, a shell could rupture. She tried her best to prevent that from happening, for outsiders to see her true feelings, considering it a weekness. But over the last few days, the chest that contained her emotions began to crack. The tension surrounding her new brother-in-law, her father on the brink of ruin and the fact her own husband could save the only place she called 'home' but refused to do so only made it worse. Of course she knew his reasons, she knew what pride resided in his heart, and all the other things that kept him from saving the house and the estate. She knew, she just couldn't understand. Despite the things people might have thought about her, she did try to understand. It was just too difficult. Her husband had loved someone else, and she knew what it meant to love, and be loved. But to put it rather harsh, that love had gone away and gave them the opportunity to start again. So why wouldn't he use the money neither Lavinia nor her father, Regie could use anymore, to save Downton? Why couldn't he see that no good would come just by giving it away?

She knew this wasn't fair on him. Even though she too was engaged to somebody else during the war, he really loved his fiancée while she did not. It certainly was harder for him to let her go, knowing she would never come back again. There was always a chance seeing sir Richard again, while Lavinia was never to be seen again in the busy streets of London. While she was glad her engagement was called off, she knew it had been harder on Matthew. A lot harder. He had been heartbroken by Lavinia's death. And even now, she still couldn't believe she was granted another chance to love the man she once loved, despite all the things they, but especially she, had done wrong. She loved him very dearly, very deeply, in a way she never knew she could before, and her feelings were answered. Only now and then they would argue, mostly on the trivial things and particular matters that didn't seem to care much. This time, however, it was different, very different. She had been in shock when the announcement of her father's financial ruin had been made, and ever so relieved when Matthew told her about how he would inherit Regie Swire's fortune. She had thought everything was solved, everything would come together if he would invest in the place and they could continue to live as they were used to. But she had been wrong. How she hated to be wrong, even on small afairs. Her heart had suffered from distance this had created between her and her husband and the fights she had found herself in before she knew it only made it worse.

Even now, lying in bed, her thoughts continued to wonder and they couldn't seem to be stopped. She felt a light tuck on the duvet while her husband turned. She wondered if he was awake as well, thinking about the things they'd said to eachother, a few hours ago. When she'd confessed she'd read Regie's letter, naturally a fight was born.

_''It wasn't your decision!''_

_''Well, I made it my decision! Do you want to hear what he says?''_

_''No.''_

She did love her husband; they were both just so insufferably pig-headed. She knew opposites attracted, but they were almost one and the same. It seemed a miracle they had fallen in love, at last. It seemed so strange; she never knew war could sprout love.

_''To start with, Lavinia must have written to him on her last day, only hours before she died.''_

_''Well, that's nonsense. There was no letter found in her room.''_

_''Be that as it may, she wrote to him after she tried to persuade you to call off the wedding and you wouldn't.''_

_''This is quite impossible.''_

She remembered the pain of not being taken serious, the soft ache in her heart returning as she lay quietly. After his words, she had taken the letter and read it's contents out loud for him, even when he didn't approve. But he had to know the words that were dancing before her eyes, neatly scribbled on a piece of paper. He had to know the truth.

_"'She loved and admired you for this sacrifice of your own happiness and she commended you to my care.'"_

_''I can't listen to any more of this.''_

_''You must.''_

She had continued reading, feeling his gaze becoming more intense with every word that had left her lips. Then, when she had reached the end, she was almost hopefull. Hopefull that now he had heard the words, true words, he would come around. He didn't. He even believed she had faked it. She didn't know for certain, though, as they had not truely spoken their minds to one another. His harsh words still echoed in her wondering mind.

_''You sure you didn't write it.''_

_''I assume you know his hand?''_

_''Not well enough to test a forgery.''_

She felt something wet dripping down across her cheek, but she didn't make any effort to remove the liquid that made it's way from her eyes. No one could see her now, anyways. The gaping emptiness between them seemed hollower than ever before, the longing in her heart made every minute torture.

_''Besides, she couldn't have written to him without our knowing.''_

_''I'm not accusing you of faking it.''_

While he said he didn't, it certainly didn't feel like it. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so _betrayed _in her life.

_''So it won't change your mind?''_

_''Not yet it won't.''_

The distance between them sended shivers through her entire body, the cold almost unbearable. Carefully, she turned around, seeing her husband was still facing the wall. She debated whether she would seek his attention, but in the end her heart won it over her wondering mind.

''Matthew..''

It was only a whisper, but so soft she wasn't sure he heard it. He might as well be asleep. She tried again, a little bit louder.

''Matthew,''

Her husband moved and faced her. His eyes were immediately alarmed upon seeing her tear-stained cheeks. Before he could ask her whatever the matter was, she had already answered.

''I'm cold.''

His gaze softened, but still he seemed unable to speak. She wondered if he noticed the double meaning in her words.

''I'm cold..''

She repeated it, much softer now.

''I'm so sorry..''

His voice cracked on unusual places. She looked up to his icy-blue eyes and locked her gaze in his. Without further things said they crossed the distance between them, snuggling up to one another. The cold that had tortured her only moments before seemed so distant, as from another life now she found herself in Matthews arms again. Her head rested on his chest, his heartbeat calmed her down completely. She was almost shocked with how content she could be just by lying in the arms of her lover, his hands slowly caressing her hair. The warmth radiating from his body made her sleepy, and she looked up to lock with his gaze once more, but his eyes were closed. She decided just to be statisfied with pressing a soft kiss on his lips, before falling into slumber again. She heard him murmur something, and looked up with a questioning look. He smiled softly.

''Are you warm enough yet?''

She couldn't help herself as she let out a small sigh, pressing her body against his again.

''Not when it means I had to let go of you.''

He pressed his lips against her hair before he answered.

''Even if it did; I'd never let you go.''


	2. Returning a smile

**A quick summary: Tom Branson just started to work at 'Downton Abbey', but a certain girl has already caught his eye.**

**A/N: So sorry for possible grammar mistakes or typos, please point them out. I hope you enjoy this little fic!**

That lovely smile had become her trademark; or that was how he thought of her. A bright, young woman with opinions and that dared to speak her mind. The first time he heard her speak of women's rights on the way to Ripon, he thought her to be another posh lady who wanted to seem 'interesting' for having opinions and going against the general opinion of the crowd. But one glance at her face told him enough. He could just see her bright blue eyes in the rear view mirror, and had not been mistaken with the sparkle in those. Whenever she would talk about matters that interested her, that lovely sparkle would return. Often with the smile that made her so remarkable. Every time he heard footsteps on the gravel on the way to the garage, he hoped to see William with the message 'Lady Sybil wants to use the motor', or even better, herself.

He imagined her, with a smile playing around his lips, coming up to the garage to ask him to drive her. With her charming eyes he was sure he'd bring her _everywhere,_ no matter whom requested the car before and forgetting all his other tasks. She didn't, though. Of course it was a little unrealistic, a posh lady having a chat with the chauffeur after requesting the motor. Oh, but he _so _hoped to discuss the matters she had spoken so passionately about with her one day, even if it went against all society was about. He had noticed the looks her sisters shot her when she talked about something 'inappropriate' again, but he couldn't say he quite agreed. Didn't opinions define a person? Well, from the point of view her sisters and the rest of society shared, it did not. Sometimes he would get the urge to encourage her, to speak his mind in front of everybody, no matter who might listen. No, not even Lord Grantham.

His mother would tell him he'd be in over his head again, with all his ideas. 'I'm an idealist', he would say. But as things were, he knew his chance of talking to her would be _very _small. Then, he remembered what his Da used to say: 'you'll never know until you try'. So that's what he decided to do.

* * *

He buttoned up his jacket while a grin spread across his face. This day couldn't have started better. Her Ladyship had told him this morning that Lady Sybil would use the motor to go to Ripon, tomorrow afternoon. He only _just _managed to keep his face in check, but inside his body emotions started raging. He wasn't certain yet what exactly those emotions were, but he believed he'd find it out eventually. Then he figured it wasn't all so strange. He could talk to her, for the first time! He was finally getting the chance he'd been waiting for. Ever since she expressed herself on that drive with her Ladyship, he'd been searching for some kind of information on women's rights and the vote. The result was excellent; a few pamphlets which covered almost the whole topic. He hoped she'd accept them; after all, she was not as obvious to servants as her sisters were.

He made sure the Renault looked spic and span for 'his' drive with Lady Sybil, this afternoon. Everything that needed to be done was done, and he found himself to be ten minutes early. Carefully, he folded the papers and laid them beside his seat, so that he wouldn't forget them. The quick thought of disapproval appeared in his mind, and he shook his head to get rid of it. Yes, he did expect her to react a bit bewildered, but to dismiss him for talking to her? Maybe if she was like Lady Mary, but she wasn't. He didn't think she thought of servants any other than the Lady's she'd drink tea with.

The sun was strong, but it didn't stop him from straining his eyes and look at her as he drove the car around. She looked beautiful today, as always. To be honest, he didn't think she ever _did not_ look pretty; no matter what she was wearing. He got out of the car and walked to the other side to open the door for her. Her lovely smile made its appearance as he helped her in the car. He stood there stunned for a moment, but got a hold on himself before he made Carson suspicious. He quickly walked back and got in the driver seat. He looked for her eyes as he started the motor. A glimpse of the most beautiful blue he had ever seen looked back at him, and he held his breath for the second time that day. His face suddenly felt warm and he concentrated a little harder on the road.

He managed to calm himself a little as they were further on the way, and got ready to start a conversation. It was strange; at home he was a sweet talker, but it seemed only the smile from an English girl was enough to silence him. Eventually, he got the courage and spoke up.

'' Will you have your own way, do you think? With the frock?'' He glanced over his shoulder and saw she looked a bit taken aback. He wasn't quite sure about his choice of words, but decided it was for the best to just finish his ramblings and give her a little explanation about why he so suddenly had brought the topic up. ''Only, I couldn't help overhearing yesterday, and from what Her Ladyship said, it sounded as if you support women's rights.'' He released an enormous amount of air that apparently filled his lungs earlier. He actually managed to bring it up. Quickly, he shot a glance in the mirror and saw, to his relief, that there was a little smile on her face. His heart rate dropped to a more normal point as he listened to her answer. It seemed he had done it.

''I suppose I do,'' she said, a little hesitant. Well, there it was. His 'chance'. She admitted it; she _did_ support women's rights.

''Because I'm quite political. In fact, I brought some pamphlets that I thought might interest you about the vote.'' It sounded a bit odd to his own ears, but there hadn't really been another way to bring it up. He grabbed the sheets on the seat beside him and handed them to here, his hands only barely shaking.

''Thank you. But please don't mention this to my father, or my grandmother. One whiff of reform and she hears the rattle of the guillotine.'' A wave of relief washed over him. The fact she had _accepted_ him was almost overwhelming. He still wondered about what it was he was feeling when she continued. ''It seems rather unlikely, a revolutionary chauffeur.''

A small smile appeared on his face as he answered. ''Maybe. But I'm a socialist, not a revolutionary. And I won't always be a chauffeur. ''From the corner of his eye, he saw her looking at him with what could only be described as admiration and his smile broadened a bit. Lady Sybil Crawley had a power he had never seen with anyone before. She possessed the power to _believe_ in someone. His chest was filled with a strange kind of joy, excitement and happiness and a lot of other things that he could not quite describe. Keeping his attention to the road seemed like an impossible task, now that his head felt so dizzy. But he had to manage, knowing he would never forgive himself if anything were to happen to her. After all, she _believed_ in him. He looked back in the mirror and saw her eyes fixed on the pamphlets he'd given her.

* * *

The rest of the drive they remained silent. Of course, he felt rather pleased with the result. But he wished to thank Lady Sybil for her support, naturally for supporting women's rights, but also for supporting _him_. If only he could make a gesture that was deemed appropriate. He found himself with a lot of time on his hands, especially as her appointment with Madame Swann took longer than expected. Not that he did mind. _That frock must be something really special,_ he thought while waiting by the car. _I should think of a way to see it sometime._

While he did bring a book to entertain him in the meantime, he couldn't seem to concentrate very well. Therefore, he was very relieved when she came outside once again. His brain was still frantically searching for a way to thank her in an appropriate way as it dawned to him this might be the only time he could. But she already stood before him, a dazzling smile plastered on her face. He automatically opened the door for her as an idea struck him. It wasn't much, certainly not after all she'd done for him, but it was al he could think of at the moment. As her hand slipped into his for support, she looked at his face. There seemed to be a light tension before she stepped into the car, and it seemed to come from him. He still saw her eyes, filled with awe as she looked at him, and only because of this simple thing he'd done. While he walked around the car to get to the drivers seat, his gaze met hers and he did it again. He gave her something that was very dear to him.

_He returned her smile._


	3. Snow

**A/N: This one is slightly shorter, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. At one moment, it just seemed finished. And of course a massive thanks to all the people who reviewed and followed this story so far!**

* * *

The air was cold and foggy when they stepped outside. A smile appeared on her face as their breaths made little clouds in the air. It had snowed, making the landscape look magical. A white Christmas, how perfectly it looked. Her hand gently stroked his arm and he kissed her softly on her cheek.

"Are you cold?" Sybil grinned at his care, the warm feeling of love almost making her heart burst out of her chest, or so it felt.

"I'm perfectly alright, darling. Nothing to worry about." He smiled as she leaned up to kiss him.

"Where do you want to go?" Tom asked, "We could take the car and drive to-"

"I'd rather walk." His wife cut in.

"Your wish is my command, milady." Tom said, with a mischievous smile on his face. Sybil sighed, indignant and irritated with his way of speaking. Her first reaction would be to slap his arm, but she changed her mind. Without wasting another moment she broke free from him, running ahead to crouch down a few meters further. Tom frowned a little as he walked towards his wife. She'd never get upset so fast. Curious of what she was doing, he quickened his pace. But when he'd almost reached her, Sybil turned around and hit his chest with a snowball.

"Oh no you didn't.." He murmured beneath his breath, but a playful smile was plastered on his face. Sybil looked satisfied and maybe a little apologetic as she rose up, but the glimmer in her husbands eyes betrayed what he was about to do. Sybil turned to run, but couldn't escape the snowball that hit her back. Quickly Sybil knelt down and grabbed a handful of snow, throwing it at Tom after she formed it into a ball. Tom ducked when he saw what was coming for him, and followed the same process shortly after. The snowballs continued to fly through the air, accompanied with squeals and laughter as they slowly got further away from the house.

Ten minutes later, Sybil and Tom sat down on the bench beneath the big tree, defeated. Tom felt the snow that had entered through his neck slowly turn into water and shivered. A glance down at his wife told him she was enjoying the wonders of snow as much as he did. A few strands of her hair had escaped from under her hat, and he gently tucked them behind her ear. Sybil smiled up to him and he put his arm around her, smiling as well.

"It'll only be a little while until we'll both start to feel terribly cold." Tom said with a smirk.

"Well then, I figure something needs to be done." Sybil said, putting her words in action as she cuddled up to her husband.  
"Maybe we can ring for some hot chocolate when we get back." She added.

"That sounds marvellous." His hand stroked her arm to keep her warm. They hadn't had much time together, so they felt grateful and used up every minute they shared with physical contact. Tom had engaged himself with the management of the estate as neither Sybil nor the little one were in any condition to travel. Sybil understood his frustrations about not being able to be in Ireland, but even now she could handle the journey, their daughter wouldn't yet be up to it. He wasn't even sure they'd go even if they could. The situation in his homeland was getting far beyond serious, and it could become really dangerous for an English woman with a child. He missed Ireland, but he would endure this to keep his family safe.  
He kissed her temple softly and pressed another one at her hair while she softly hummed to herself. He didn't want to disturb this peaceful moment, but his toes and fingertips were growing cold and he worried about his wife's condition. Shortly after giving birth, she had fallen ill and there had been nothing he could do. Since then he'd become more protective, earning irritating looks as he mentioned or asked something about her health again. But he couldn't help it.

"Shouldn't we go back?" He said softly. She sighed, but agreed with him.

"Yes, I think that's for the best." She replied, "I almost can't feel my feet anymore."

"Suppose I could carry you back?" Sybil's grin matched her husbands' at his proposal.

"Carson would most certainly get a heart attack at the sight; I don't think I could do that to Papa. Or Mary, for that matter."

"I'd better walk you back then," Tom said, "I'm not sure I could survive the wrath of you sister." Sybil burst out laughing, the most wonderful sound he was sure had ever heard.

"No, I don't believe she'd ever forgive us." Sybil said, smiling. Tom stood up and held out his arm for her to take it. She gladly took it and pressed herself against him. Tom felt her shivering briefly and untangled his arm to put it around her. They walked back to the house, a lot closer than what was supposed to be appropriate, but neither of them really cared for all of that. They were just happy and content with the company of each other, even if that would mean their hands and feet would grow cold. The snow made cracking noises beneath their feet. The air was still foggy as little snowflakes whirled towards the ground once again. A smile appeared on her face as their breaths made little clouds in the air. Yes, it was going to be a wonderful Christmas.


	4. A difficult decision

**A/N: On request from a Guest I decided to do another M/M fic. Enjoy it! **

**Small summary: When Mary returns from London she has to give Matthew her answer, but is she ready to face him and does she make up her mind? Happily AU!**

* * *

Mary sighed as the familiar sight drew nearer. It seemed that nothing had changed. The house was still standing and her future was still as unsure as a lottery ticket. It felt as if a large weight was laid upon her stomach, a heavy, unpleasant feeling. It was no surprise, really. She felt insecure about what to tell Matthew. It wasn't like not everyone had put their noses into her business, it never was. But how could they let a decision so essential in her life, not been made by herself? Mary had thought a few more weeks in London might help her to make up her mind, but staying with her aunt had only complicated the matter more. The idea of rebelling against her families' opinions didn't seem as appealing as they might have done to Sybil, she did want to think this through properly and of course her family wasn't stupid. But when it maybe was for the best, she did resent them for making this so complicated. At first she felt fairly certain about accepting Matthew, while now everything felt wrong. Mary sighed at the sight of seeing Carson standing outside, awaiting her arrival. Nothing had changed, after all. A weary smile formed on her face as her favourite butler opened the door of the car.

''Welcome back, milady.'' He said.

''Thank you, Carson.'' She said. ''Have things changed while I was away?''

''Not much, milady. I daresay no one would expected that.'' She smiled at his remark, for the butler didn't make jokes so often.

''No, especially not Granny or Papa. I should persuade him for a telephone, though. They were very usable while in London.'' The look on the butlers face told her not everyone would see a telephone as an advantage.

''Then you should like to be informed his Lordship is already considering one.'' Carson said, clearly not pleased. Mary smiled at this, but didn't answer.

''I take the others are in the drawing room?'' She asked as she approached the stairs and Carson nodded.

''They are. I will take care of your suitcases in the meantime, milady.''

''Very well.'' And with that, Mary stepped inside.

* * *

After the all the usual greetings and gossip were exchanged, Mary found herself sipping her tea, feeling a little nervous. She expected the interrogation to start any moment now. Therefore she felt a rush of relief wash over her when Sybil spoke up, postponing the subject for now.

''So, what did we miss?'' She asked.

''Nothing much. Although you'd have had more invitations than I did.'' Mary said with a sigh. Not that they mattered now, while she was considering to marry Matthew.

''Have you thought about Matthew?'' Here it was. It should be no surprise to Mary that her Grandmother would eventually speak up about it. She was still doubting what to say, as the matter was clearly not yet settled.

''Of course, but Aunt Rosamund...'' She answered, only to be interrupted by the haughty voice of the dowager countess.

''No!'' The old woman said, putting her hand up as to invigorate her statement.

''She's written to me. I should pay no attention.'' Mary was surprised. She knew her aunt made a point when she said it was inconsiderate to marry a man with an unstable future.

''But Granny, she has got a point,'' Edith spoke up, ''Mary can't be completely naïve.'' Somehow voicing what she'd been thinking made Mary resent Edith more than she already did.

''I don't need your help, thank you.'' Mary said, irritated by the mere look of her sister, who was severely responsible for the stain on her reputation.

''Mary, listen to me.'' Her grandmother said, ''If you take Matthew now when his whole future is at risk, he will love you to the end of his days.'' As if it was so easy.

''Why, Granny, you're a romantic.'' Sybil said, trying to lighten the subject for as far as it deemed possible. This was one of Mary's favourite things about her youngest sister.

''I've been called many things, but never that.'' Was her grandmother's reply.''

''And what happens if the baby is a boy and Matthew loses everything?''

''Mary can always change her mind.'' A gasp left Mary's body. How could her grandmother think that? He loved her, and would definitely be heartbroken if she did that to him. He'd never forgive her, nor would she.

''But I can't do that to Matthew,'' Mary said, ''It's not how we are together.'' Her grandmother sighed in frustration and turned away. Mary felt furious with the woman just for thinking that of her! She felt as if everyone was against her and her own feelings and opinions, repressed, not able to make them understand that it was not just the in heritage for her, that maybe.. maybe it was love.

She stood up to leave, excusing herself with the reason of helping Anna unpack. The ringing in her ears almost prevented her from hearing Sybil come after her, but she didn't mind. She would prefer the company of the so called 'rebel of the family' over that of anyone else at this moment.

The door of her room slammed shut behind her, only to be opened again after her. Anna had already finished and was probably somewhere else in the house. Careful, Sybil walked over to her sister and sat beside her on the bed. Looking for a way to comfort Mary, she started rubbing her forearm.

''Whatever you choose to say to him, it must be your words.'' Sybil said after they sat in silence for a while. Mary looked at the blue eyes of sincerity and seriousness, and wondered if she could ever be as tenacious as her sister.

''It is easy for you to say,'' Mary said, though it didn't came out as she wanted it to, ''you don't have everyone's opinions pushed at you.'' Sybil sighed in acknowledgement.

''Be that as it may, don't you have anything to say, Mary? I know you desperately try to do what is right, but…''

''Whatever I do, nothing is ever right.'' Her sister cut in. ''You've heard them; the only thing for me to do is to somehow adapt to everyone's opinion in my answer.''

''And do you know what Matthew's opinion is in all this?'' Mary looked at Sybil to see if this was a serious question, but nothing in her sister's eyes indicated humour. ''You might get married, you ought to take a look at what your future-husband thinks of this.'' Mary was shocked by the sudden wisdom from her little sister and said nothing. ''Mary,'' Sybil searched for her sister's eyes, ''do you love Cousin Matthew? Because if so, without any doubt, could you ever _not_ marry him?''

''It's not that easy.'' Mary said as she found her voice again. ''He expects me to answer him as soon as I see him again, I could hardly be so bold as to ask him his opinion and then to wait a little longer, can I?'' Sybil saw that her sister was prepared to do anything to give Matthew the right answer, as long as achieving it didn't hurt him in the process. It showed how much she cared for him.

''Mary,'' Sybil said, her voice softer than before, ''You care deeply for him. I believe no one could tell you what answer would be right, but you.'' Mary realised the truth in these words, but still felt unsettled. Sybil stood up silently and walked to the door. ''You can make the right choice, Mary.'' She said with an encouraging smile. ''I feel it.'' Sybil left her sister there, sitting on the bed. Mary thought about the things Sybil had said. There was truth in every one of them, and once more Mary felt done under by her sister's wisdom. Matthew _loved_ her, nothing more and nothing less. Everything her family had said seemed ridiculous now; all the facts were outdone by this one thing she did know for certain. She loved Matthew too.

* * *

He had found her on the occasional bench beneath the large cedar, sitting somewhat stiffer than usual. When she looked up to greet him, an unfamiliar look struck him.

''Hello, Cousin Matthew.'' She said coolly. He was silent for a moment, but answered her greeting eventually, feeling a bit nervous.

''Hello Mary. Care for a walk?'' She had no objection and soon they found themselves calming down with the soothing feeling that came with walking on the extensive grounds. But the silence went from relaxing to slightly uncomfortable. It was Mary who spoke first.

''What did you want to talk to me about?'' She asked, only in a casual manner, hence she perfectly well knew what he wanted to talk to her about. Matthew wasn't sure how to react, and answered with a question.

''So… Have you made up your mind?'' They were back at the bench again as Mary stopped walking to think of an answer. When she remained silent, Matthew spoke up.

''Mary, please. I have to know.'' Mary looked up to him, a bit desperate.

''I'm not- can't we do this another day? I'm not sure what to…'' She gave up before finishing her sentence. The conversation with Sybil had made her see there was more to think about than meets the eye.

''Let me get this clear. At Sybil's ball you said you'd give me your answer the day you got back, and now you say you will not.'' Matthew sounded grim, and Mary didn't blame him for it.

''Why do we have to rush into it?'' She tried, ''I need to be sure, that's all.''

''But you were sure.'' The truth in his words send an ache through her heart, but he continued. ''Shall I tell you what I think has altered you? My prospects. Because nothing else has changed.''

''No.''

''Yes!'' He raised his voice before Mary could say anything, his icy blue eyes piercing into her very soul. ''If your mother's child is a boy, then he's the heir and I go back to living on my wits, and you'd rather not follow me there.'' He didn't understand any of it; maybe she didn't mind following him, her family did. Somehow, they always seemed to be the start of the problem.

''Oh, Matthew, you always make everything so black and white.'' She cried, noticing ironically that they were just wearing those two colours.

''I think this is black and white.'' He replied angrily, ''Do you love me enough to spend your life with me?'' She cast down her eyes. ''If you don't, then say no. If you do, then say yes.'' It sounded so easy when he said it like that. She wished he could just see that it was far from easy.

''I want to… Granny told me I should say yes now, then withdraw if you lost everything.'' It seemed best just to try to let him see it, let him see how her family controlled the most of her actions, how she could only move within a constricted area, with the boundaries controlled by her father and grandmother.

''To make that work, you'd have to be a good liar.'' Did he really think that bad of her? That she'd actually try? ''Are you a good liar?'' He asked sceptically.

''Well, not good enough to try it, apparently.'' Mary replied. They were silent for a while, over thinking the others words. The heat of their discussion cooled once more and they were both trying to speak up again. Mary succeeded first.

''Look, Matthew…'' She started, her look softening, ''I don't mean to upset you, truly I don't, but I'd rather be sure now and not disappointed later. Just as I want you to.'' He looked back, pained and confused.

''But I've been waiting for some time, now... Can't you tell me at least something? Why do you want to delay so terribly? It can't only be Cousin Violet telling you to wait.'' She was a bit taken aback by his words. So he knew. No, her family wasn't the only reason, but she had to tell him this. Right here, right now. After this, there wouldn't be another moment, she was sure.

''Something happened…'' She started, unwillingly, ''It was that time Evelyn Napier visited the house. Do you remember?'' She looked at him carefully.

''Of course I do. He was the one who brought the Turkish fellow, wasn't he?'' Mary flinched.

''I see you recall mister Pamuk as well.'' She stated stiffly. Matthew raised his eyebrows.

''Well, he was the one who… _died_ here, no one could easily forget that. Does it have something to do with it?'' Mary put her hand over her eyes, not able to look at him. He had to know. It was her duty to tell him.

* * *

Mary hadn't even realised she'd started crying. Matthew just… stood there, feeling confused, disappointed, sad, but feeling pity as well. Pity for Mary, who had to burden this secret for all this time. He so desperately wanted to move forward and put his arms around her, comfort her, but something was holding him back. Mary eventually managed to dry her eyes and a silence fell once again.

''What you must think of me now,'' Mary muttered, breaking the silence.

''I think you're brave.'' Matthew said softly. She looked up with astonishment, not quite able to produce a question.

''You might not see yourself this way,'' Matthew continued, ''but you're brave to tell me now. Especially now. Who knows what would have happened if you'd decided to tell me on our ten year anniversary.'' He chuckled and Mary's expression softened a little.

''Do you still want to marry me then?'' She asked with a small voice.

''Nothing has altered my love for you.'' Matthew said, ''Not even a haunting Turk. Everyone has flaws, Mary.'' She met his eyes and didn't doubt the adoration in those.

''Well then,'' She said as a smile broke through on her face, ''I can't think of another reason stopping me.'' Lights appeared in his eyes.

''Does this mean you'll accept my offer?''

''Nothing would please me more.''

With a content sigh Mary embraced him, the unbearable weight that had occupied her stomach for so long finally lifted. She didn't think of what her family might think about her reasons, but she could care less. For the first time since a very long period, Mary finally felt happy.

* * *

**A/N2: This one was a bit longer, I still hope you can find the time to tell me what you thought! Even if sometimes I don't reply, I still appreciate every review! Also, I'd like to say that if you've got any ideas for a one-shot, I'd love to hear it. Take care!**


End file.
